Ignite the Stars
by brenli
Summary: [[Star Wars AU]] A Republic under threat. An Empire slowly rising. Younglings inexplicably bound together, whether a galaxy apart or uncomfortably close. Growing, achieving, and painfully losing... feeling the press of the dark. But one lone candle is enough to hold it back... "Love is more than a candle. Love can ignite the stars."
1. Imaginary Friend

_Foreword:_ _The following is a Star Wars AU piece. I do feel it should be noted, this project as a whole was created to be a sort of joint project between myself, Jael Randell (who the readership will likely know as the cowriter for Chronicles of the Fallen's second installment, Layers), and HaloRecoil. There will likely feel like there are… not necessarily huge missing parts, but like there are skips ahead to different parts of the overarching plot, as I will only be posting the pieces I myself have written. Familiarity with the storyline of Star Wars is, therefore, highly recommended. That said, there are going to be some deviations from said plot. It feels moreso like a situation where one must know the rules before breaking them._

 _This AU begins in the Rise of the Empire era, 36 BBY, and intends to stretch some time into the 19 years between the birth of the Skywalker twins and the end of the Galactic Civil War._

 _Also, while this has its roots as an Angel Sanctuary gone Star Wars AU, this piece features Nemaelle Mudou, OC for my CotF series._

* * *

 **Ignite the Stars  
** _Imaginary Friend_  
By: Brenli

He wasn't much for reading.

Michael twitched about on the beige cushion on which he sat, cross-legged, the book open wide on the floor in front of him. Study hall wasn't much better than the hours upon hours spent in meditation; he was distracted by the smallest of events that happened around him. Shoe scuffs. Tiny sniffs of the nose. It pulled him away from the placid calm he was constantly being told to attain. The placid calm his brother reached with ease, so still he looked more like a statue than a boy.

Michael crossed his arms tighter and felt the pout bloom in his chest. 7 years wasn't a long time to be alive, but it felt like eons. The price to pay for being a youngling Jedi-to-be?

If he succeeded in becoming a Jedi. Hard to know, when he was too distracted to read the books or even just clear his head. He didn't know why he was this way… Just very aware of everything. The instructors of the Jedi Temple never said much about it, and he kinda figured they would have if it was a huge deal, but they never did. They just let him flounder…

Probably just waiting until he reached 13. Then they'd send him to AgriCorps. That was the quiet way to handle it, and he didn't need to be a big smart adult to know it. He was descended from the Morningstar line and kicking him out would be bad news. So yeah, they'd bury him in AgriCorps while his brother Lucifer carried the torch; he was a kid, but he knew his brother was better than him.

Michael knew jealousy was bad. It sent you on a path to the Dark Side. He knew that.

But he couldn't help feeling hurt about it. He wanted to be a Jedi Knight. He wanted to be a hero and keep the world safe. But he didn't have what it took. He didn't even have his own kyber crystal.

"Hi again."

Oh, it was his imaginary friend.

He didn't really know what else to call her. He'd been seeing her… all his life, he guessed? As far back as he could remember. And when he was super young, it didn't matter to anybody… Until his peers who also had imaginary friends, stopped having them, but he kept his for some reason. That was when he started keeping her a secret.

He didn't answer her because he was in study hall, and he tried not to look right at her, too, but he saw the shine of her kyber crystal, dangling from a raw leather cord. Colorless, for now.

Even his imaginary friend got a kyber crystal before him.

"Don't worry, you'll get one, too." She smiled so big her eyes crinkled shut. Her face looked like one of Coruscant's moons.

Visits with his imaginary friend were… maybe not typical? Always so vivid. Almost like teleporting, but only almost because he was still stuck in the Jedi Temple. Cross-legged on a cushion with his book in front of him, but… he was also somehow wherever she was.

A ship. A big, gray ship. He never could figure out what the ship was for; sometimes he'd get visits when she was boarding the ship again, and it never seemed to touch down in one world for very long. And those moments were far, far between. Like it only ever broke into the atmosphere to refuel and restock…

But whatever the ship was for, it kept moving.

Right now, she was also cross-legged on a cushion – gray like the metal floor like the metal walls like the metal everything on that ship – with a book in front of her.

Without thinking, he leaned forward, far past his own book, to try and peek at hers.

She didn't mind. She flipped it around so that he could read it… an illustrated book, places in Coruscant?

"This place will be different than all the others…!" And she seemed very excited about that, bouncing on her cushion. "What are you reading?"

Michael's eyes widened when she reached out and touched the pages of his book. It wasn't imaginary… the pages bowed under the pressure of her fingers. How?

He didn't stop to consider what it might look like if he reached out and touched her own book; he just did it. The paper was thin and had an odd grainy feel to it-

She flipped the book shut with a quick motion of her hand, nearly snapping it shut on his fingers, and she let out a loud peal of laughter that had him suddenly looking around the room at his peers.

Of course, they were too good at studying to be distracted.

"Sorry, sorry. I'm just bored." She flipped the book open with another quick motion of her hand, not touching the cover, the pages. She used the Force for menial tasks. She used the Force for jokes and for fun, with ease…

It had him sitting straight and crossing his arms, again.

She mirrored him. "Don't be mad. I said I was sorry!"

He didn't respond.

"You're in study hall, again, huh?" Her lips puckered and her cheeks puffed out. She could use the Force with ease, but she was still a kid. "Fine. Let's be good and study together." Another motion of her fingers had her book floating… One hand stayed raised, which made her look awkward, but she made the book hover at a height that made it so she didn't have to hunch over the pages.

And he couldn't help himself. "… How?" He whispered the word, felt the dread of being overheard.

The floating book wavered; he'd distracted her, but not enough to break her concentration. "Hmm?" Her eyes were big, curious red orbs. She pointed at her book with her free hand. "This?"

Michael gave a small, scared but desperate nod.

"Energy."

He felt his disappointment weigh his shoulders down.

"No, hey!" She huffed and puffed, and her book flopped to the floor of her ship. It was nice to see she wasn't perfect. "It's all energy. I'm energy. You're energy. Your book is energy. The air is energy."

He shrugged, face scrunched in confusion.

"The Force is energy. It's all energy." Another big smile that turned her face into a moon. "You can do anything as long as you feel all the energy going around. Like the way your knee keeps jiggling."

Michael froze, the stillness feeling like a buzz in him.

"Like your fancy book with the super smooth paper. But, not that smooth, right? 'Cause it's your book. You put a bunch of creases in the spine and the glue isn't holding the pages as good as it used to. And you got the corners folded in some spots. That's energy you put into your book. And the floor, and the air around your book. Energy from you, from your peers, from your world."

"Distracting." A whisper he hoped nobody heard.

"No. Not distracting. Just energy." She shifted around on her cushion in a big wave, side to side. "Feel and see and hear and taste it. The Force isn't quiet. It's super super loud!" She leaned forward, holding a finger to her lips. "That's why the Masters always sit in quiet rooms; they're crazy old so they're tired of hearing it all the time."

Michael couldn't help it. He snickered.

"Try! Energy connecting you to the air to your book to everything." His imaginary friend's pale knees jiggled in frenetic excitement that echoed in his own knees. "Breathe it in. Smells like paper. Breathe it out again." She smiled, eyes shut, face like a moon.

The way she described it was so different from what he'd been told. He had to be quiet and very still, but she spoke of so much… _stuff_. Breathing and knee jiggling and the smell of books. Distractions, but she said they weren't distractions… What if they weren't?

Shoe scuffs. Quiet sniffs of his peers' noses. Even his own heartbeat.

His imaginary friend's pale fingers clutched onto her cushion. Old cotton, and her nails caught on the fabric and made a gripping sound.

The pages of his open book gently fluttered. He exhaled, and the pages softly settled. The edges of the paper didn't lay nicely; he'd thumbed through the pages so many times that some were used to a kind of curl that others weren't. It made the paper scratch against each other. His book, wearing all the energy he'd put into it. Full of it, like a part of himself. He slowly lifted his hand, like she'd been doing.

The book rose up.

Excitement had his heart thumping and his smile cracking wide across his face. His knees jiggled, his body shifted about and it made his book drift in a small wave, like it was riding on a current.

"Yay! Yay!" His imaginary friend was animated in her joy, her kyber crystal thumping against her chest as she bounced wildly on her cushion. "First stop, books! Next stop, kyber crystal!"

"Yeah!" He cheered out loud.

Michael remembered where he was.

Several eyes turned to him. He could feel the quiet gasps of some, and the held breath of others. His brother, as usual, kept the even breathing he could never hope to attain. His steel gray eyes weren't even looking at him, but at the book he was still hovering… even despite all the distractions. If they even were distractions, after all.

Michael immediately dropped his hand, and the book flopped to the floor with an unflattering clatter. He could feel the buzz of energy in it, in himself. His imaginary friend was gone, but he swore he could feel her face, smiling and looking like a moon.

The reaction wasn't what he expected. Maybe the floating book had something to do with that, but as their instructor told everyone to continue with their reading, he was escorted out of the quiet study hall.

"How did you make your book levitate?" The instructor asked.

"… The Force?" His ginger brow furrowed in boyish confusion.

"The Force." The tone was accepting but unimpressed. It was the obvious answer.

"Energy." He tried again. "In me. In my book. It buzzes."

The instructor nodded. "Come with me."

Michael tried something new, during the trip down through the Jedi Temple. He listened for the shuffle of their shoes on the floor. The rustle of his instructor's brown robe. There was dust, very light, kicked up into the air. Not enough to tickle his nose, but it caught the light from the windows. The light was warmer than the dark.

Not distractions. Just energy.

He stood and took in all the energy while his instructor spoke with the advisory Council. All that time thinking that details were distractions, but they weren't. It was just energy and it didn't keep him from listening to their conversation. It was time. He was late, and so would be in a smaller group than was usual, but it was time.

He would be going to Ilum…!

Michael's excitement had him jumping; and the weight of his instructor's hand on the crown of his head didn't keep the energy from buzzing in him, like he could lift ten books, if he wanted.

"You're not leaving right this second." His instructor gently teased. "Arrangements need to be made. In the meantime, back to studying. _Actually_ studying. Read your book."

"Yeah, okay." Michael brushed it off and hurried through the doorway. He'd study if he got to float the book at the same time; that was his compromise!

"Hey!"

In his excitement, he turned toward his imaginary friend. Her world took up the entire doorway, all gray metal. It made her look tiny.

"Ilum?"

Michael felt the pride puff out his chest, and he grinned and nodded.

She grinned in kind. "Told ya so!" Her world jolted, making her throw out her arms to steady herself. "One more pitstop…!"

He wanted to ask what that meant, but he couldn't. She was already scrambling out of her metal room, and he really needed to stop talking to his imaginary friend.

"Are you coming, Michael?"

His head whipped around to his instructor, then back to the doorway. One of the advisory Councilmembers gave a nod of acknowledgement before shutting the door. "… Yeah, hang on!" He scurried and sprinted past his instructor.

This might be the first time he wouldn't mind study hall.


	2. New Girl

**Ignite the Stars**  
 _New Girl_  
By: Brenli

Nema could barely contain herself, bouncing from boot to soft gray leather boot, the weight of her kyber crystal swinging along with her body. Already it had begun to take color – green, but soft as sea foam – and it cast the gentlest glow on her pale clothing.

The advisory Council skimmed through her academic records with raised brows and appreciative smiles. "She is quite advanced for a youngling, isn't she?"

"She is, Council." Her master instructor spoke plain and proud, resting the palm of his hand on her head. She kept swaying, and his hand merely followed along with her. "She came to us at age 2, already able to sense presences through walls."

"Nobody beats me at hide and seek." Nema grinned so wide it crinkled her eyes shut.

Soft chuckling rippled through the Council. "The Force is more than games and tricks, youngling." One Councilmember countered, though warmly.

"I know." Nema still swayed. "Doesn't mean that it isn't those things, though."

"Oh? And is there anything the Force is not?"

"The Force is all things, of course!" Again, she grinned.

Another chuckle rumbled softly through the Council, but this time her master instructor was addressed. "She is a true credit to the Outer Rim. The Gray Pilgrim has come far to bring her here."

"Nema is the pride of the Gray Pilgrim." He shared a smile with the youngling… a touch wistful. "It would be a disservice to her Jedi studies to keep her aboard. We're not too proud to admit that."

"You would have her continue her studies in Coruscant?"

Nema's master instructor ruffled her hair, long and pale as moonlight, and nodded to the advisory Council. "She deserves to be taught by the best instructors, in a fully up-to-date setting, and to one day be Padawan to a Jedi Master of the highest caliber. On behalf of the Gray Pilgrim mobile academy, we implore you to accept her as your student."

The advisory Council murmured amongst themselves, and the head of the Council set down the datapad. "How have you enjoyed your time on the Gray Pilgrim, Nema?"

"It's been fun!" She grinned and finally stilled, her pale hands reaching up to fiddle with her kyber crystal. "It's home."

"You would miss home, wouldn't you? If you had to leave it."

Nema nodded, her round face gently sobering. "Yeah, but… the ship is in my heart. And I'm in the Pilgrim's heart. Maybe far away, but… still together. In the heart." She clung to her kyber crystal, the clenched fist pounding on her chest. "We're one with the Force."

A startlingly mature answer for a 7-year-old youngling to make, and the advisory Council wasn't foolish. "Do you think the Jedi Temple could be home?"

In a flash, she was bouncing and grinning again. "It's already home!" And it was, it really was.

The Jedi Temple was where her best friend lived.

That wasn't to say she valued other friends less, but he was… different. Very, literally different because he lived so far from the moving ship she lived in. He came from a world where city lights were so abundant, the planet looked like it was made of stars. A planet that was a city, that looked like a galaxy unto itself. Coruscant – the heart of the Jedi way of life. She had wanted to be a part of her best friend's world as far back as she could remember…

And today was that day.

The excitement buzzed bright and warm within her, even as she hugged her head instructor farewell. It had been a long voyage, and she'd shared goodbyes many times over, with every friend and every instructor. Though she would miss them, each and every one of them, it was time for hellos.

Hello to her new instructors.

Hello to new friends.

Hello to an old friend, but finally in the flesh.

When the head Councilmember guided her into class, it was all she could do not to leap over to him and hug him tight. They were in the middle of a geographic lesson, a map reader beaming a wide swath of the Outer Rim throughout the room, and she traced the Salin Corridor, over and upward, to Felucia, which glowed like a blue freckle on her best friend's left cheek.

His eyes were wide and somewhere between blue and green; but they looked more like blue in the dim aqua glow that the map reader cast on a sea of young faces. She sensed that he'd just gotten back from Ilum one day before; the still-clear kyber crystal caught the blue light and seemed to cling to it. He wore the pride like it was fresh, the crystal like a badge of honor.

But of course it was a badge of honor, and of course, she had a very keen feeling his kyber crystal would ultimately go blue.

She grinned so wide that her eyes crinkled shut, waved wildly with both pale hands as the head Councilmember introduced her to both instructor and class. At last, she was meeting her best friend in person! At last, at last, at last…!

"Well then…! Nema, let's bid you welcome to the Jedi Temple by putting you in the thick of things, shall w-?"

Being in the thick of things was all she wanted! She sprinted forward, arms outstretched until she caught and pulled her best friend tight against her. Their kyber crystals clacked together, clear against the forming faint green glow of her own. "Hello!" She needed her first hello to be with him, she wouldn't have it any other way. She sensed the shock. The disbelief… it had her giggling and releasing him, just to grab hold of his hands. "Wow, you're really warm!" He was. Usually the hands of others ran colder.

Laughs spread among her new peers.

It wasn't kind.

"Girlfriends aren't allowed, Michael!" A girl with hair like a Tatooine sunset and a mole near one eye teased.

His response was instantaneous and burned her like she'd come too close to the sun. "She's not my girlfriend! I don't know her!" And then he pushed her.

She stumbled through hologram trade routes and planets, almost clear across to Dagobah when she was caught by the shoulders. Nema looked up at a statue-like face, however youthful. Eyes gray as the metal of the Gray Pilgrim and hair dark as deep space. Her best friend's brother, she knew from prior moments shared from a galaxy away.

But even he wasn't exactly kind. Not mean, but not kind, either. He wore amusement like it was a weapon, a close-lipped smile that mocked… not her, but him. "Jedi don't push girlfriends."

And she could sense the hurt. The embarrassment, mixing with disbelief in the crucible of his warm chest until it yielded anger. "Shut up, Lu! You don't know _anything!_ "

Forget her new peers. They faded like very distant stars while she pleaded with the sun. "Why are you being like this? We're friends!"

"No, we're not!" Michael tried to drown out the 'ooh'ing of his peers with a yell that had their instructor and the Councilmember waving their arms and trying to reclaim authority.

But Nema was nothing if not stubborn. She hadn't come all the way across the galaxy for her best friend to lie. To deny that they'd shared moments since… since forever. It must have been forever, because she couldn't remember a time when they _hadn't_ had moments. "Yes, we are!"

"No! Shut up!"

The energy was a hard nudge, right in the center of her chest. A thump, an echo that made her stumble. The Force rippled between them. The shock was hers. The pain was theirs. The guilt was his.

But his guilt didn't stop her. " _Enough!_ " Nema stepped forward, her hand cutting across the air.

She sent him flying backward.

Yet even that hadn't resulted in a reaction she wanted. Their peers were laughing all the louder, now… even pointing at the boy, whose blue helmet had been knocked off in the fall.

No sooner than she'd attacked her best friend had the instructor stepped between them, and the Councilmember rested a commanding hand upon her shoulder. But she was done. She had no interest in continuing to fight Michael when all it was doing was making their peers laugh harder. She sensed that this wasn't uncommon…

She hadn't meant to feed the cruelty of younglings who had yet to reach the caliber of real Jedi.

"Both of you are reporting to the Council." The instructor's voice was the kind of placid that quelled the laughter of children. He succeeded in guiding Michael toward her and the Councilmember up until the sensing between them became too much to bear. They were mortified, angry, upset.

Disappointed. He wore his frown with a frustrated furrow to his red brow, and she wore hers with the starlight glimmer of tears in her crimson eyes.

The adults both nudged their shoulders and spoke in unison. "Now."


	3. Mean Kid

**Ignite the Stars  
** _Mean Kid  
_ By: Brenli

"Nema. This is unlike you…"

Michael saw her glaring upward at the trio of adults from his peripheral, listening to her former instructor gently scold her… his imaginary friend.

Not imaginary, at all…

How was this possible? It didn't make sense! Had he been having visions, this whole time? All his life? Interactive visions? Maybe the Force was stronger with him than he thought…

"He pushed me! That's unlike _him!_ "

Well… admittedly, only because he'd never tried it, before. It wasn't long ago that he was whooping with pride at making his book float. A trick she'd coached him through, in a vision that was more real than he could describe.

Michael suddenly jolted. That wasn't the point! "How would you know?" He snapped at her. Why was she acting like what they had was normal? No Jedi, not a single one he could think of, said anything about having cross-galaxy friends! There was a reason he stopped talking about her when imaginary friends were no longer acceptable! There was a reason he kept her a secret!

"Because I know!"

"Do not!"

"Do too!"

"Do not!"

"Do too!"

The two instructors and the Councilmember had been around enough younglings to know how this would pan out if they didn't step in. "You feel at peace." They suggested in unison, with a gentle gesture mirrored in each adult's hand.

Of course, three adult Jedi doing a mind trick on two younglings was only going to yield one result. Michael saw the calm wash over Nema, and felt it settle cool inside him. He ought to have been happy. She was, at times, the only person who really felt supportive of him, even from across the galaxy. He ought to have been happy she was beside him, now.

"Can you explain how you know Michael?"

He sensed her candid nature and despite himself, smiled. He'd always liked that about her. In a world where Jedi hopefuls kept themselves particular in their expression, she was unapologetically herself. It reminded him of himself, but she wore her honesty like open arms, not like a saber.

"I know him through the Force." Nema answered with a terrifyingly easy boldness. "I've known him all my life. Since we were babies. Since when he used to sleep with a little lamp on all the time and I had to cover my face with my blankets."

Michael's brain scrambled. Nevermind, maybe he _didn't_ like her honesty! "She's lying!"

"Am not! You still have that teeny lamp, too!" Her feet planted firm on the ground, pale hands on her hips, her cheeks puffed out like one of Coruscant's moons. "You just don't use it anymore 'cause when you turned 5 you thought you had to stop being a baby!"

"She's _lying!_ " Michael insisted with waving arms. "She just wants to fit in because she's an Outer Rim weirdo, and when I didn't play along, she got mad and attacked me so she can fit in with everyone who doesn't like me!" Which was an awful lot of their peers… But that didn't matter, because that hadn't been her intention. He'd felt it, sure as he felt his own self. That wasn't why she retaliated…

He wasn't brave enough to face her, but he heard her audibly gasp. Felt the air as she suddenly flailed an accusing finger at him. "He made that up…! He made that up…!"

"All right, all right…" Nema's former instructor sought to calm her.

"Michael," his instructor's tone was an equally placid tone, "do you have any similar experiences? Has the Force connected you to her?"

Something jarred inside of him, but he didn't have the words to explain it. He wasn't being accused, but he _felt_ accused, like every other time he'd had an outburst and had been forced to sit through the hatred-leads-to-the-Dark-Side spiel. Even though this wasn't about hate. Maybe the Force push was a sort of hate. But that wasn't what his instructor was asking about… and he said what he thought he had to. "No. I've never even _seen_ her before, and I think she's lying about seeing me! She's just saying it to seem special; which she isn't! Just 'cause she's the smartest in her Outer Rim academy. Nobody cares!"

"… You're very mean." That was all Nema said in response.

It wasn't even vindictive. Not hateful. Just the truth… he was very mean. He was a mean kid who didn't welcome his friend like a friend ought to have. The guilt began swelling painfully hard in his chest, the energy like a burnt-up ache.

He couldn't look at her; he just couldn't. He was sensing enough, anyway. Confusion and hurt…

"Nema? What if this was a hasty decision on the part of the Gray Pilgrim?" Her former instructor queried.

Suddenly Nema was crying. Michael sensed the hurt like a lightsaber stuck in her heart, burning and painful. "No…!" She moaned in protest.

"We can always reassess." The Councilmember suggested. "We've seen the files; we know she would do fantastically, here. Maybe in a few years' time-"

"No, no, no…! I came across the whole galaxy!" She sobbed, and Michael sort of wished he'd hugged her back.

But Barbiel, who usually _didn't_ antagonize him, just had to tease him with that stupid remark. 'Girlfriends aren't allowed.' He wasn't going to hear the end of it.

"The Force _wants_ me here! It _wants_ me here, and I can't let fear put my study here on hold because he hurt me!"

"I barely nudged you! You _shoved_ me!" Yeah, oh yeah, he was a dumb, mean kid. But he didn't like how she said that. Even if it was the truth… Specifically because it was the truth.

And she knew. He could tell that she knew, because she wielded the truth like a saber to his own heart. "I'm gonna get hurt a lot more, in life! If I respond by running back to safe places, I will _never_ be a Jedi! We are one with the Force, all of us! Disconnecting is not the answer!"

He wasn't about to go saying it out loud, but when she spoke like this in prior visits, it made him wonder how she wasn't already a Padawan. It made him feel small… He had so much to learn.

"You want to address and resolve this conflict?" The Councilmember asked in calm contemplation.

"I wanna fix it." Nema sniffed and swiped at her wet, round cheeks. Michael could sense tears soaking into the pale fabric of her robes – material a little bit worn, something he hadn't really noticed in their visits – and heard the soft scuffle of the soles of her boots shifting against the floor. Nervous, but committed.

"Michael?"

"What?" He grumbled, and he wasn't proud of it.

"Are you willing to talk this through with your new peer?"

"There's nothing to _say_." He was a mean kid. He didn't deserve his kyber crystal, at this rate.

The three adults were silent for a short moment, and then the Councilmember spoke again. "I have an idea. Michael is already familiar with this exercise."

… No. Not _again!_ "Aw, come on!" Michael immediately protested. He could feel the buzzing energy of Nema's moon-like face turning to look at him, full of curiosity.

But the Councilmember was already ushering everyone to the room Michael dreaded. "This way…!"


	4. Unbalanced

**Ignite the Stars  
** _Unbalanced  
_ By: Brenli

Nema took Michael's grumbling for overall moody meanness… until they were in the balancing room, and she got to look at the simple structure. A single column rising from a pool water, tapered to a precarious point upon which a single board rested. Long enough for two younglings, one on each side.

Oh no…

"You'll each stay on that board until it's time for the evening meal." The Jedi Temple instructor folded his arms together. "If either of you should fall into the water before then, what happens, Michael?"

"We do it again tomorrow." He'd definitely done this before. A lot. Enough times for his mental exhaustion to fog around her.

"Do you understand, Nema?"

"I understand…" Had she ever been punished for anything? That just wasn't how things were done on the Gray Pilgrim. There wasn't the space for odd rooms like this one. On the Gray Pilgrim, younglings sorted out their differences with their words, under supervision of an instructor. Sometimes that meant screaming, but at least everyone got the dark feelings out of themselves. How was this supposed to resolve anything?

Michael moved over to one of two small floating platforms, just big enough for one standing person, and recklessly stomped onto it. Water sloshed onto its surface, not quite close enough to reach his brown boots. He looked over his shoulder, and his glare spoke for him. He wanted to get this over with.

This wasn't the best friend she knew…

Sadness swelled inside her, and she turned to give her former instructor another hug. The gray sleeves of his robe wrapped around her. "May the Force be with you, Nema."

"Always…!" Her voice wavered, but even in all her disappointment, she knew it to be true. It was the only thing that kept her steady when she stepped onto the second platform, felt them drift closer to the tapered column before rising into the air.

They hovered, facing each other, at each end of the balanced board. His glare seared like a saber blade… but guilt, she sensed guilt mixed in all his anger.

"Why don't you want me here?"

The anger flared so brightly, it momentarily burned out the guilt. "Just get on the stupid board with me!"

Her body flinched, but the platform stayed steady as they each crouched down to crawl on their respective halves of the balancing board. They scooted, facing apart, and when their backs touched, she thought his cream-colored robe was warm.

The platforms descended, and the punishment began.

Nema's journey had been long. She'd said her goodbyes so many times, over… but waving to her former instructor just once more suddenly had her aching to follow him out the door. This wasn't playing out like how she thought it would. Punishments instead of talking. Peers that were a little too cruel; they had a lot to learn. Her best friend didn't like her…

But she couldn't be afraid. The Force had pulled her here like thread bound to her heart, glowing green like her kyber crystal, and turning blue the closer she came to her destination. She was meant to be here; she knew it, she _knew_ it…!

"What are you doing?"

She hadn't been expecting him to break the silence. The anger and the fragile hurt seemed to sit all around him; and in the quiet she realized she'd always sensed that about him. She just hadn't realized its potency until it was directed at her. "… What do you think I'm doing?"

Michael suddenly bounced on the board.

Nema scrambled, flailed, and clung on tight to the board. It was smooth and hard to grip, and she was sure that was the point. "Stop it! I'm not _that_ good at using the Force; I've never tried to hold this much weight!"

She sensed the disbelief. The surprise… and even the awe. But then he spoke, and it negated the soft gratitude his feelings granted her. "Are you calling me fat?"

"I don't know, are you fat if you weigh more than one book?" She couldn't believe he'd ask that. If he weighed less than a book, he'd have way bigger problems on his hands! He'd need a healer!

"Shut up!" Michael couldn't hide the sputtering of his voice. "Why do you have to come here and make my life harder?"

That's it. " _Your_ life?" Nema turned and glared at him over her shoulder, and the board suddenly teetered every which way. She almost slipped, and in a desperate attempt to regain balance, she laid belly down on her side of the board and wrapped her limbs tightly around it. "I said goodbye to the only home I know! I thought it would be okay because I had you!"

"You can't _have_ people!"

"You're my friend!"

"I'm-!" Michael paused, and she sensed the turmoil like a rip in old Jedi robes. She wanted to stitch it together…

She asked the prevailing question once again. "Why don't you want me here?"

Michael growled a bratty boy's growl and shifted about, even as the board swayed and threatened to dump one or both of them. But she sensed it… the guilt, hiding in layers of anger and embarrassment and confusion. He knew he was hurting her and he felt bad about it…

She clung onto the hope of that guilt. "I thought you would be happy to have me here… I am. I don't _want_ to be a galaxy away from you, in a big old ship while you're in this pretty place-"

"You're not real!" He snapped, the board wobbled.

Nema sat up, at the risk of sending herself falling to the water below. "I am _too_ real!"

"No!" He shook his head, and his red hair shook with it and settled as a tousled mess. "You're supposed to be pretend!"

"Why would you want me to be pretend? Why did you _think_ I was pretend? I always knew you were real!"

"Nobody cares you knew I was real!" The dark weight of confused anger made Michael forget himself, moving quick to turn, and suddenly tipping the board too far over on his side. For the smallest of moments, he was in free fall…

Until she grabbed him, hands clinging on tight to his own. Her legs were locked tight around the board, forming a ring that locked against the tapered edge of the column… Painful. Her shins had cracked against the hard and slippery stone of the column, sure to go black and purple with bruises.

"… What are you doing?"

Nema had to blink and sniff the tears back, before she could answer. "Not letting you drop."

She sensed it again. The awe… but wasn't this just, the right thing to do? It wasn't remarkable to do the right thing. It was an average. It was a bare minimum for all. She looked down at him, the blood rushing to her round face, and he looked up at her. She didn't need to sense the sentiment. His face wore it plainly, like in the moments they shared while a galaxy apart from each other.

His boots began flailing fruitlessly, the toes only barely reaching the column. "Just let me drop."

Nema shook her head. "I'm not giving up."

Another shade of emotion made itself distinct from the anger and the guilt… fear. "Let me drop! You look like a stupid lizard!"

"So?" She snapped at him, cheeks puffed out, face round like a moon. "So what if I look stupid?"

Michael swung about and stammered. "… So it's _stupid!_ You know what? That's your whole problem! You think you're so smart, you, you're so great 'cause you can carry us? You're an idiot! You show up here and hug me and now everybody thinks it's funny like you're my girlfriend! And that's _your_ fault! 'Cause you think you can just be whatever and it's okay! But it's _not_ okay! Do you know the Jedi Code? You're an _idiot_ and you should go back to the Outer Rim!"

Nema felt the saber-like burn of his attack like it gouged her open… and she let him go. Cast him away from herself, and she wasn't proud of it.

Michael splashed back to the surface as Nema righted herself in the center of the board. "Hey!"

"Happy?" Nema yelled down at him.

"You…!" Michael slapped at the water. "Now we have to be back here, tomorrow!"

"Well if you hate that so much, maybe don't call me an idiot for just being your friend!" The upset buzzed in her and ached to be released… but she knew that was darkness; she knew that they flirted with a bad path in all their anger. "How dare I be your friend? Not like I haven't been your friend your whole life! You're just afraid to admit it to dumb judgy people!"

"I'm not afraid!"

"Then go tell them now! Your brother and everybody!"

She sensed the scramble like heavy, itching wool that threatened to weigh him back down underwater. "No!" He roared as well as a 7-year-old boy could roar. "They're just gonna say you're my girlfriend! Jedi can't have girlfriends!"

"So what if that's what they say?" Nema yelled so hard that the hurt of it crinkled her eyes shut. "Who cares what they say? It doesn't matter! They don't know our heart!"

"Shut up! Would you just shut _up?_ " Michael flailed in the water, "Why do you even say it that way? Don't say 'heart!'"

Nema's pale hands slapped against the board. "Heart heart heart heart heart!"

"Shut up!"

The sound of a clearing throat severed their argument… she felt childish. True, she was only 7. And she'd been taught to value the qualities of youth, to let the folly of childhood teach her and shape her into the Jedi she could one day become.

But right now, it only felt like it threatened her down a path she never danced with, and never wanted to dance with.

"Seems that you'll both be back here, tomorrow." The instructor called out to them.

"Yeah, seems so." Michael grumbled, splashing and swimming out of the pool. Leaving Nema with her aches and her bruises.


	5. Unraveled

**Ignite the Stars**  
 _Unraveled_  
By: Brenli

In a move that felt miraculous, his not-so-imaginary friend had avoided him through the evening meal. She'd also arrived late, given that she hurt herself during their time balancing. It only made sense that their instructor made sure to inspect her shins for injury.

All things considered, she'd come out relatively unscathed. Just about everyone had a story about failing at the balancing, about hairline fractures and split lips. One peer, a boy his brother's age named Kamael, somehow dashed his head open on the board and ended up with some kind of fancy metal plate tech on his cranium. The balance room was a dangerous room; it was sort of surprising the Jedi Temple kept it around.

Michael's time balancing with Nema had been the easiest ever, though that was because she was doing all she could to carry the both of them with the Force… Amazing. Mind-boggling and… and yeah. Awe-inspiring. The only reason she'd broken her focus on supporting the weight of _both_ of them was because they were arguing. That was the only thing that marred her performance… And such skill proved that she belonged in the Jedi Temple.

Had any others in their peer group shown the same skill, yet? Lucifer could levitate some things, though he never made a big show out of it – he sure never levitated books for the fun of it, like Nema did. But could his brother levitate himself? Himself and one other person? Not that he'd seen, though Lucifer did everything he could to be secretive.

Michael would be lying if he said that he didn't hope Lucifer met his match in his friend. Pride made him want it to be himself, but if it was Nema that was close enough, in a way he couldn't explain.

In a way that he didn't _want_ to explain, not with her around. In the flesh. Hugging him. Wrecking his already cruddy reputation as a youngling…

Barbiel was giggling with other girl younglings – Bal, a bubbly but highly instinctual girl named Moonlil, a new-ish Cathar girl named Kurai – and knew that she was sharing with them what they'd missed when she pointedly looked at him.

Michael couldn't help himself, faking a lunge when the other three girls stared at him, making them scramble. Great… just _great._ It wouldn't be long until all of his peers thought he had a girlfriend. A girlfriend! Why would he have a girlfriend; did they think he wanted to be booted from the Jedi Order? No! Why couldn't Nema just be his stupid imaginary friend who lived on a stupid imaginary ship that he sometimes stupidly imagined he saw?

The frustration had him stomping to his room and throwing the evening texts he was supposed to study. "Stupid-"

"Ow!"

What in the…! "Get out of my room!"

Nema snapped back, "Get out of _mine!_ "

"I'm not in yours! You're in-" No wait. Wait. It took more patience than he had to spare, but she wasn't in his room. Not exactly. He was only viewing her through the open doorway to his closet, like a gateway to her own room.

She hadn't unpacked, and sat on her small pile of boxes. Her boots, he hadn't realized, could unravel into long strips, and the material pooled at her ankles… Oh, her shins were a wreck. Dark, vivid blue-black bruises against the moon-pale shade of her skin… the wounds were swollen. She'd really taken a hit for him, and continued to do so – when he'd thrown his texts, one had clearly struck her right knee, and the offending book lay flopped open against her calf.

She was rubbing salve into her injuries and crying.

The guilt hit him threefold. He was a mean, mean kid… "Well can you not be here?"

"Why are you being cruel to me?" Nema growled through painful tears. "Like I'm trying to be in your space! You hate it so much, shut the door!" Her hair spilled over her shoulders like tangible shafts of moonlight as she groaned from the pain of touching her bruises.

Would that work? He supposed so, though he'd never tried it, before. He strode forward and reached for his closet door, when she gestured with her hand and sent his book flopping out of her room and back into his.

She didn't say anything. Just tended to her wounds, sitting on her unpacked boxes, weeping. He sensed her misery. Loneliness. She felt pathetic, even though he was pretty sure she was the only one in their age group who could lift and hold two people using the Force. Nema was amazing and she felt like a failure…

Michael was angry and confused, but not angry and confused enough to deny he'd done things wrong. "… I'm sorry."

Nema sniffed and quietly screwed the lid back on her salve.

Yeah… well, he didn't deserve her forgiveness or anything. He halfway closed his closet door when she asked that question, again…

"Why don't you want me here?"

Michael paused, sighed.

"Why do you want me to not be real?" She looked down at her unraveled boots. "You really like me better as someone who doesn't exist?"

"No." He answered, soft and sorry.

"Then why aren't you happy?" She cried.

" _Because!_ " Michael's hands tore through the rich red strands of his hair. "Because…! I don't know!"

The round left cheek of her moon-face rested in her pale palm, and he could feel her hopeless confusion bloom. It matched his own.

He shifted from foot to foot and willed the question out of his mouth. "Why'd you hug me?"

Nema looked up at him with a frown. "Because I was happy… We're not a galaxy apart, anymore." She sat up straight. "You don't like hugs?"

Michael didn't answer.

"… I won't hug you, anymore."

He felt her defeat, dark and heavy and he didn't like it. It made him frown. He was too confused to make sense of it. "… You tell your people about me?"

She snorted. "My people… they're Jedi and younglings too, you know!" But she sighed, and he sensed her honesty. "Yeah. They knew."

So she was braver than he was, then… Michael's pride was as bruised as her shins. "… What they say about it?"

"That it was interesting." Nema shrugged. "They're not sure what it is you and me have. Somebody even thought you might be a Force ghost I was talking to. I said that was dumb. You're totally alive." She hesitated, fiddling with her jar of salve. "… Why'd you keep me a secret?"

He thought he knew… now he wasn't so sure. It just seemed the right thing to do. His peers already thought so poorly of him…

Nema's eyes softly narrowed. "They don't really think I'm your girlfriend, right?"

"Hope not?" Michael didn't wanna think his peers would seriously accuse him of something like that. He was a freaking _kid_ , and more than that – everybody knew Jedi didn't date. It was part of the Code not to have attachments, and just having his brother around already made that hard. He couldn't wait until he was a Jedi Knight. He was gonna do everything he could to take on missions in whatever was the exact opposite part of the galaxy Lucifer ended up in.

"I'll tell 'em, if I have to."

Michael felt himself scramble at her plain, simple honesty. "No! Are you kidding? That'll just make it worse!"

"I wanna fix it!" She insisted.

"You _can't!_ " He snapped. "It just is what it is, now, Nema!" Saying her name felt like a weapon, subduing her…

Hurting her. "… Can we start over?" He sensed her beat-down sadness. She felt fragile, and she hated that she felt fragile…

"That's a dumb question." It was mean, but he tried to say it gently, because he was sorry that it was a dumb question. "I already said, it is what it is. None of 'em are gonna let us forget it."

She shook her head, and her moonlight hair swayed in a soft ripple. "No. Can… _we_ start over?" When she looked up at him, bruised inside and out, her red eyes were lined with tears. "… Please?"

Michael frowned down at her, trying to make sense of what she asked, gripping his closet door.

"… Please…?" Her lip quivered, and her loneliness was palpable. It ached like a bruise on his own body. On his chest, even though it was her loneliness. "I made a mistake… but it was because I was happy. I was happy to be beside you… You're my best friend, Michael."

His own name was a weapon, too, and she wielded it against him. "I dunno… maybe."

The unraveled emotions felt like they might trip him up if he took a wrong step. Relief and doubt. Sorrow and the remnants of her original, moonlight-bright joy. Confusion… She nodded at him, even as his noncommittal answer had her crying. He sensed gratitude mingling with disappointment as he pulled his closet door shut.

No sooner than the door latched did he suddenly yank it back open; why was he being so cruel to her? She didn't know their peers were going to be jerks about her hugging him! "Hey-"

Michael stared at his few sets of robes, and he wasn't brave enough to go find her room.


	6. Enough

**Ignite the Stars  
** _Enough_  
By: Brenli

Nema didn't remember time going by so slowly, and she wondered if it was a Coruscant thing. Because life on the Gray Pilgrim… it seemed to move so quickly. Why was that? Traveling through space in a vessel… there were only so many things to do. At least Coruscant was constantly bustling, at all hours… so full of life. So full of the Force.

So why did it feel like years here moved so much more slowly than they did on the Gray Pilgrim? She was 10, now, but she felt more like she should have been 13.

Maybe it was the solemn kind of quietness that the Temple instructors preferred to maintain over the younglings… An odd approach to enforce, if she could be honest. It was no wonder Michael struggled with the studies… it felt stuffy, hard to breathe. It wasn't an approach that suited him, and the only reason she continued to shine as brightly as she did was because she actively refused to let it dictate her actions.

Though doing so came with consequences, she'd learned in the three years studying at the Jedi Temple. It marked her as an outlier, made her peers sling around the kind of rumors she'd been taught never to make. That she might slip. That the Dark Side would envelope her… Why anyone would make light of such an accusation, she didn't know. The Sith were no joke, even if nobody had encountered one in so long, it was certain they were all dead.

But the mean words were still whispered, and the instructors never did anything about it… A test. They had to be treating it like a test. That was the only thing that made sense…

Well. She would pass the test, then; she would even shine all the brighter for it. And Michael would, too. She was certain of it, even if doubt tended to tug at him. Doubt would be his own trial…

Today, however, would be a far easier trial. As she stepped into the open room, she carefully fiddled with the hilt of her lightsaber, making sure that she'd adjusted its strength to a meager stun before igniting it. Soft green light emitted from the plasma blade, and she heard the hum as she slashed at nothing in a warm up.

Their dueling instructor had commenced a tournament to gauge each youngling's skill in combat, and she'd been steadily winning each duel. So had he… and today they would be going against each other.

He was already standing at the center of the circle in which they would duel, his saber glowing blue as lightning in a Coruscant evening sky. The hum hit pitches that nearly whistled as he slashed and stabbed; he was one of the quickest among their peers. Deadly, even if he was only 10 years old. He would make a formidable Jedi Knight, she knew it, she sensed it like the Force thrummed with his future…

But even without the Force, it was clear. Dueling was when Michael came alive, because he was born to move. He was born for action.

Their instructor was calling out the names, pairing everyone off based on the results of the last set of duels, but Nema had been keeping track on her own.

So had he, she sensed it in the acceptance as he moved to the edge of the circle, letting her in. She wished she could call it more than acceptance. Nema was more than happy to duel Michael, she was more than happy to spend a measure of time with him that wasn't an embarrassingly frequent detention in the balancing room…

But acceptance was all she felt. The best she could receive, after three years of their peers making accusations that they shouldn't have been spreading lightly, and disrupting their connection. She didn't know what else to call it, but a connection.

"Ready?" The pause before Michael spoke was palpable, the humming of their sabers was palpable. The Force was palpable, the closer she got to him.

"Bet she is." A golden-haired youngling cracked the joke, and it made the upset ripple in her all the stronger. Raphael was one of Michael's very few friends, and even he was making the kind of comments Jedi shouldn't sling around easily.

Michael's reaction was instantaneous, and Nema felt the burning dark of it when he immediately spun on his heel, glowing blue blade brandished and held out in a move ready to strike his own friend. "I'm ready!" She said, like a firm and necessary tug toward the light of her green saber. Even if his own lightsaber was set to a light zap.

He needed a moment to recenter himself, and she let him have it. It was a good sign… it meant he was aware of himself, and the baser need to strike at that which struck at him.

Children were cruel. Even if they were Jedi younglings.

Nema sent the sentiment out in a sorry silence. Their peers were cruel, but they didn't have to sink lower for it… and she swore she felt the warmth of acknowledgement, similar to the heat that emanated from him when they were forced to sit with backs pressed together, on the balancing board.

She helped him to further forget, giving him a crinkle-eyed smile that made her look like a moon, as she waved her saber about in a silly – though skillful – flourish.

Michael masked the amusement with a moody scoff, but he wasn't fooling her. "What is _that?_ " He imitated her, and that was when she moved, green plasma blade meeting blue with a crackle. She batted his saber aside and nearly tapped his temple, but he was quick enough to duck. "Hey!" She sensed his amusement bloom brighter, and watched his glare sharpen all the more, to hide it.

Nema mimicked his surprised crouch, legs spread wide, arms braced outward. She merely grinned.

Another scoff… but helplessly, hopelessly entertained, more laugh than sneer. The Force felt lighter for it, and so did they.

Michael ran at her at full speed, made a leap into the air with his saber ready to swing down on her, bearing down hard on her parry as she slid across the floor beneath him and leapt to a stand behind him. She sensed… happiness, open-faced and rare happiness. Excitement, even, though that much she'd felt from him just when he was sparring with others. Combat was what he lived for, because it was fast and it was instinct. It was raw like the Force was raw. Or at least, that was how they both felt it.

So she allowed herself to embrace the tingling buzz of it, and enjoy the moments for what they were. Instinct almost like the speed of light… when he spun to face her with his saber making a wide blue arc toward her, it made sense to bend backward and dodge the would-be blow, and make a move of her own – a slash to his calves, but he leapt upward again.

When his brown boots touched the ground, she didn't give him the time to get steady, and pressed forward with the kind of quick strikes that had given Michael all his wins, thus far. She pushed him almost to the very edge of their circle.

But only almost.

In a move unlike what was typical of him, he ducked downward and smoothly spun out of the hard momentum Nema had been trying to impose on him. A dodge, smooth and sneaky. A move more like what she made in all her prior duels, at times the exact move which granted her victory.

So she wasn't the only one who'd been sensing and feeling tactics… and his sudden smile said he knew that she knew. He didn't dare say it out loud, but he laughed. Amused. Ecstatic. She felt like he'd been waiting for this match up, the whole time… And so had she.

She laughed in kind as she closed in on Michael again, the hum and the crackle of their lightsabers punctuating a sudden peace. Nema didn't know what else to call it, other than peace. Vibrant peace. Wild peace. Volatile and nurturing peace. It shone as bright as a sun… and it felt like home.

See? They could be happy. They could have all the things that the Force kept tugging toward. Green light crossed against blue light as they pressed against each other in the center of their circle. Some duels were already over, but that was no reason for them to hurry through their own, right? The question was a sensation, a thrill that buzzed between them as red eyes peered into teal ones, and vice versa. They asked each other, and they answered each other with smiles that weren't guarded or nervous. It felt so good to finally have fun. It felt good to be friends. To be connected…

They kept dueling.

She planted one gray boot on his thigh and pushed away, launching herself into the air only to land on one foot – right at the edge of their circle – and bounce back inward.

"They're dancing together!" Nema heard Barbiel tease, and Raphael laughed in response.

It brought everything to an end, though not in any clear defeat. It merely allowed Nema the opening to swing her saber and stop the blade an inch from Michael's neck, in tandem with his own.

Where they were once smiling, they now frowned. Because of a three-year-old accusation. Because their fun was severed, and the wound of it burned inside each of them.

"A draw…!" Their dueling instructor was at least appreciative, making notes on his datapad. "We will hold the rematch tomorrow."

"They'll like that too much." Barbiel was sweet, but she was also… really, really crass; she didn't watch what she said. She'd even been the reason Michael and Nema precariously balanced on the path they were set upon. Her teasing comment that she remembered, because it shaped everything about how she and Michael interacted, now. 'Girlfriends aren't allowed.'

It didn't matter what anyone thought. "We'll like it just enough!" It didn't matter.

"Ooooooh…!" It was a taunt that echoed around them, as they stood in their circle. Only the instructor kept his silence.

"Shut up, Nema!" Michael snapped. Enraged, but… also, mortified. Oh, he did a very good job letting anger trump all the other darker feelings that crowded in his peripheral, but he couldn't hide from her.

"No! I have had enough!" Three years, she'd let this play out. It didn't matter what anyone thought, but it mattered what _he_ thought, and he let them tug on him and play on his dark and she had _enough_.

Three years of having Nema as a fellow youngling had given all her peers an idea of how she was, as a person. Impervious to the three-year-old accusation. Oddly aloof for all her moon-face smiles, and paired with her innate skill, it always made her seem older than she was. "Relax… It was a joke." For what it was worth, Barbiel was quick realize her error. Michael was easy to anger and he was always watched, because of it. But Nema never confronted anyone but Michael, before.

"It's a stupid joke! Why is it funny to accuse us of breaking the Jedi Code?" Nema pointed the blade of her saber at the other girl, the green light shining like a threat. "Or does the Code mean nothing to you?"

"No…!" Barbiel sputtered.

No, of course the Code meant everything to everyone, here. They were all children brought into this life, and the Code was their backbone. Nema knew it… But if their instructors weren't going to shine a light on how sacred the Code was, then she would. "On the Pilgrim we don't degrade the Code!"

"Then go back to the Pilgrim!" Raphael defended his peer, though his frown was thoughtful. She sensed a certain regret just as much as she sensed a distant chill; it wasn't enough to impress her.

"No! I'm glad I'm here!" She felt the wave of subdued surprise roll through her peers. That wasn't what they'd expected her to say. They'd expected her to cry out that she wanted to leave, but that wasn't… as much as she missed the Gray Pilgrim, that wasn't what she wanted. "Maybe you will _learn_ something."

And that… she knew that was too far. The implication struck at an institution renowned throughout the galaxy. The heart of the Jedi way of life…

"That's enough, now." The instructor said with a soft and subtle wave of his hand, and the flow of peace only settled into a sad weight in her chest.

"Yes," Nema heard the way years seemed to add up in her own voice. "It is enough." The plasma blade of her saber dissipated with a click… and she sensed the terrified and desperate nudge. She didn't know what else to call it. A mental tap that came from Michael. But he didn't speak up. He wasn't free with his self, and she couldn't help him if three years of their tense sometimes-okay, sometimes-strained certain something hadn't changed anything in him… She couldn't do everything.


End file.
